He found her, wrapped in plastic,
that little doll that now sits upon
his mantle.

She was well preserved and her
skin never did have the hint of
death upon it. Her glassy eyes
stared into nothingness, even to
this day as the fire rages.

Little did he realize her powers
would still linger on, even after
mortal death’s lingering gaze
glossed over. Never did she
completely perish … never!

Those glassy hazel eyes that stare
off into space, seemingly blank to
the world … they hold something
so much more wicked than she
was in life.

This death was her birth …
… and now she sits …
… in transformation.